


a leo after all

by ninetwothrees



Category: B1A4
Genre: Canon Universe, Character Study, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Gongchan-centric, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 17:17:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5674204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninetwothrees/pseuds/ninetwothrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It would be arrogant to say being handsome makes Chanshik's life harder, and he doesn't. One could even say it makes it easier, and if that's the case, Chanshik can't quite figure out what that makes him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a leo after all

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: internalized beauty standards, canon inconsistency, unbeta'd
> 
> not as angsty as i made it sound lol. and tbh i feel weird about using fancy tags like "character study" bc IDEK. but anyway.

When Chanshik first meets Jinyoung, he thinks he’s the most handsome man (or rather a boy) he’s ever seen in flesh.

Jinyoung himself dispels the conclusion not much later.

“When we debut,” he tells him on a lunch break one day, a small group of them, trainees, sitting cross-legged in front of the mirrors in the practice room with lunchboxes (of their own choosing, diet plans haven’t been installed yet) in their laps, “you’ll totally be the visual.”

_If_ we debut, Chanshik thinks over the first part of the sentence, but Jinyoung sounds so confident it makes Chanshik want to believe, at least until he’s inadvertently lying in bed later that day, worrying about his future, his present, the past he left over 800 thousand kilometers behind. The second part, though, seems simply incorrect. “I don’t think so, hyung,” he laughs.

“Who else?” Jinyoung’s hand with chopsticks he was raising to his mouth wavers and he lets it down, his eyes meeting Chanshik’s in the mirror. It’s a rhetorical question but it’s also not in case Chanshik is being serious.

Chanshik is equally convinced of his prediction but he lacks Jinyoung’s ease and so voicing it feels terribly embarrassing. “Well... you?” He better get used to embarrassing, for when they debut and variety shows line up.

Jinyoung smiles at the unspoken compliment (or is it a mere acknowledgment of a fact? nothing feels like a compliment anymore, even when the weekly assessments of his training progress don’t end up in holding back tears) but shakes his head. “Are you doubting your hyung?” he says teasingly and fills his mouth with rice, a sign this conversation is over, no further explanations are needed, even though Chanshik doesn’t feel any wiser.

He ponders on how else to breach the subject, not briskly enough because Jinyoung is getting up, finished with his meal. Chanshik sneaks a glance at his own reflection but before he can study it properly, Jinyoung’s words still ringing in his ears, he finds another trainee Sunwoo doing the same.

Chanshik startles, Sunwoo doesn’t. “You can’t seriously not understand you’re exceptionally handsome.”

It sounds nothing like a compliment, and it’s what makes Chanshik take on a sharper, defensive tone. “I’m one of the darkest people in here, I have a double eyelid on _one_ eye and acne.” None of that used to matter but everything matters now.

Chanshik hasn’t noticed they weren’t the only ones left until someone starts getting up to his feet. “Wow, I can’t be sitting here. Huge problems you have there, I’ll tell you.” It’s Junghwan, the boy with chubby cheeks and tiny eyes behind his thick glasses. (Chanshik hates that’s the association his brain’s been taught to make, even if he doesn’t mean anything bad by it.) “People would go to clinics to look like you.”

Sunwoo joins Junghwan, throwing one last pointed look at Chanshik, who’s struck by the all too frequent realization that he’ll have to reevaluate how the world works once again, and until then he’s unsure if he played the victim or the perpetrator in the exchange that just took place.

For the following dance practice he stands next to Dongwoo, the boy who never gets sarcastic or acts like he knows obvious truths Chanshik has yet to uncover.

 

They debut and Gong Chanshik, turned Gongchan, is made the visual, carrying two stealthy implications of the role within himself, implications he can now read between the lines.

One: He’s exceptionally handsome. (His uneven eyelids are charming, everyone but Sunwoo left their acne behind once their most hormonal teenage days passed, and no one even urges him to use whitening cream.)

Two: There’s no other real use for him in the team. (Only when Jinyoung says otherwise, intent on crushing any unproductive thoughts that could threaten the fruits of their hard work and pure brotherhood. Then the belief bursts, until he has the time to chew it over and blow it up again like a tasteless bubblegum.)

In their five-bodied symbiosis, Sunwoo’s softened, Chanshik hopes Junghwan never hardens, Dongwoo’s grown into a hyung in more than an age descriptor, and Chanshik struggles to remember he’s the maknae, no matter how many time he states it in his introduction. Even if Junghwan’s sitcom-like existence and Jinyoung’s motivational mannerism might suggest otherwise, real life isn’t a drama and Chanshik doesn’t get flashbacks of their lunch break conversation from what feels like a hundred years ago, but nonetheless, he rarely doubts their leader.

 

There is a routine to it. When his hyungs sing praises to his face and, out of all things, his butt (there was an instance when they _literally_ sang), he’s giddy, when TV hosts bring up his good looks, he’s bashful, and when fans fawn over him, he’s humble.

“You’re too humble,” Sunwoo notes, watching over his shoulder as Chanshik keeps typing, deleting, and retyping a message for their fancafe.

“Does the concept of _too humble_ even make sense?” Chanshik doesn’t pause in his activity and pretends Sunwoo’s monitoring doesn’t make him foolishly self-conscious. “I mean, humbleness isn’t a bad thing.”

“Humility,” Sunwoo says absentmindedly, and adds with feigned frustration, “Can’t you at least brag about being humble?”

Chanshik laughs, glad Sunwoo’s gone along with his insubstantial approach, even if he’s learned that Sunwoo spends a significant time with his thoughts and worries about each of them as well, more than Chanshik might have given him credit for in the past.

“He has a point, you know,” Dongwoo says later after Sunwoo excuses himself. (Chanshik didn’t realize he was close enough to hear the conversation but over the course of living together they’ve grown familiar with the golden rule of _someone is always close enough_ so it doesn’t faze him anymore.)

“Hyung, you’re probably the humblest person I’ve ever met,” Chanshik points out the flaw in his logic.

For reasons he’s not entirely sure of, it earns him a hair ruffle followed by a headlock. But once their giggling settles, Dongwoo isn’t done. “I’m just saying. You gotta own what you’re good at.”

“I’m good at my face?” Chanshik jokes with more sarcasm than he lets in his voice and Dongwoo frowns, so he quickly follows up, remains of sarcasm buried underneath the now earnest tone, “Okay, got it,” and after a pause, he can’t help a spontaneous and entirely genuine, “You’re nice.”

He laughs seeing Dongwoo’s flustered expression. His argument about Dongwoo’s humility stands.

 

Chanshik learns not to compliment Junghwan’s appearance too much, too overly, lest he get suspicious.

Even through the evaluations they had to deal with since before their debut, when they were as inherently vulnerable and totalistic as teenagers are, even through the numerous visual self-rankings that have been forced upon them for the good old entertainment purposes, Chanshik has never meant anything bad by it, and among the things he doesn’t have the energy to think about often is awareness that beauty is a much more complex notion than the world at large leads them to believe.

Whenever Junghwan compliments him about his singing, Chanshik is torn between suspicion and questioning if Junghwan could actually be so calculative as to praise him for the sake of praising.

(“You have the emotional intelligence of a duck,” Sunwoo once said.

“Bad joke alert,” Junghwan threw back.

Later that week Sunwoo found a printed-out article with a highlighted passage on his doorstep. _“Most importantly ducks like all animals are sentient, with the ability to feel pain, experience emotion, capable of compassion, intelligent and aware of themselves and their environment.”_ )

And does the intent matter? That, too, remains unclear to him.

 

Chanshik files his face onto the list of assets to be proud of, begrudgingly at first. There wasn’t a single moment that drove the point home but certain directions in his job description definitely made the most unsubtle effort.

“Awkward” used to be the feedback given by photographers in the beginnings of a lot more posing to come, plus some cliche speeches about how you look as good as you feel about yourself, and one memorable quote, well-meaning yet unsettling in ways Chanshik could never put into words, made much worse by his members being present to hear it: “But with a face like yours, half the work’s already done.”

Regarding comebacks, there wasn’t much pressure to perfect his singing (Junghwan’s job) or his dancing (Dongwoo’s job, kind of; they’ve always specialized in their musicality over the choreography aspect anyway), and Chanshik watched in awe as his hyungs took up writing and composing so that each album became more and more theirs. Meanwhile, he focused on the expected areas of perfecting his aegyo for the early concepts and later on his sex appeal. In front of the mirror, the experts advised.

He does embrace the mutual fun he discovers in posting a selca or glancing into a camera and sending the fans into a frenzy just like that.

“You are a Leo after all,” Jinyoung, the more shameless SNS seducer out of the two, says. At Chanshik’s bemused expression he explains, “Astrology, look it up.”

“You believe in astrology?” Chanshik asks, entertained by the prospect since none of them even buys the blood type theory behind their own team name.

“I might now.”

 

“Okay, honestly. _Honestly_ ,” Junghwan drawls over a game of jenga on an unfortunate day when it's raining too hard for Junghwan and Chanshik to get their bikes out and the others are busy with actual schedules. “This whole never-been-kissed thing, is that for real or are you playing up the innocent maknae image?”

“ _Honestly_ ,” Chanshik parrots. “Is that really a pressing thought on your mind?”

“ _Ay_ , dumbass,” Junghwan smacks his knee with the jenga block he just successfully pulled out. “Stop trying to talk your way out of this and just level with me. I, as your hyung, would like to know.”

Chanshik’s eyes gleam with interest at Junghwan calling him out on his favorite technique - a first - and he complies. “Honestly, it's honestly.”

“I see,” Junghwan mutters, tongue sticking out from concentration while he’s placing the block at the top of the tower.

Chanshik gulps down any embarrassment threatening to surface. “What?”

Junghwan’s brows rise in victory once ten seconds pass without any commotion and it’s officially Chanshik’s turn. “Nothing, I just wouldn’t have figured.” (“Why?” Chanshik jumps in, Junghwan ignoring the interruption.) “But it can happen, you’re young, you debuted young and awkward, yeah.”

That’s his cue to get lightheartedly offended so he reaches to grab Junghwan’s escaping foot, minding the tower with little success as his arm comes in contact with it anyway and sends it crashing down. A gleeful Junghwan redundantly reminds him of their bet and how he’s now obligated to meet the rain and pick up snacks.

 

“Infinite’s L, VIXX’s Hongbin, and now B1A4’s Gongchan!” the interviewer counts off. “What inspires these handsome men to get into photography? Is it perhaps seeing yourself in the mirror?”

Chanshik automatically laughs, and before he can think of how to answer, Junghwan puts an arm around his shoulders and tips the mic Chanshik is holding to himself. “Huh? Why would…? No, no, he takes real photos.”

“Spoilers,” Sunwoo’s deep voice deadpans. “Come to the Gong Chanshik Exhibition to find out.”

“I,” Dongwoo lowers himself closer to Sunwoo’s mic, “I actually have one of the photos he took in my studio.”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung joins in, “we’re thinking he could direct the jacket shooting for our next album.”

Chanshik turns to him. “Who’s going to sew the stage outfits?”

The interviewer laughs. “Wow, B1A4 taking the self-made-dols title to another level!”

 

(Lying in bed, Chanshik’s mind thoughts flow back and forth between sleep and consciousness without much active input, fractions of moments past flickering into the fresh material of his brain.

There are websites dedicated to documenting how self-made idols’ faces are, how extensive the craft of professional designers with scalpels, a topic painstakingly common yet tabooed, tabooed yet common, fans shielding their idols from accusations of procedures that are reality for their friends if not them themselves. It almost makes more sense, to give out thank yous over compliments for money poured into tweaks here and there, achieved for a price Chanshik doesn’t have to understand and so he remains neutral on the case, refraining from feeling protective of others’ - what? privacy? soul? reputation? self-image? right to decide?

People would pay for a face like his, so to speak. Hard work is praised but thank you, he supposes, for acknowledging his well-esteemed assortment of genes, but actually, thank his mom and dad for those.

He always hopes to make them proud.)

 

The end of 2015 comes; after his members single him out on Naver’s V app as the member who had faced many challenges in the year they’re leaving behind, he has to excuse himself once the live stream closes. He certainly does not tear up, if anyone asks.

**Author's Note:**

> credit for the duck quote goes to [this site](http://www.think-differently-about-sheep.com/sentience%20in%20farm%20animals%20poultry%20ducks.htm) \o/


End file.
